The lizards were anti-climatic.
a fat lot of good this'll do you.
Things can be sometimes lonely, when everything in life feels ill-defined and at the straining point of a break. When the pause is pregnant, but we don’t talk about it. When I care too much, apparently, and the passion that got me to this place becomes a liability rather than a selling feature.
You can be sometimes fickle, when I come directly at you. Messy, predictably needy, somewhere between the desire and the question. But we don’t talk about my inconstant heart anymore than we talk about your lack of faith in my ability to walk the line. Apparently, I was not paying close enough attention to your lack of attention.
It is lonely on this side of the cliff, trying to calculate the precise velocity that my body will break against the wind. Sometimes I want to feel out the answers, through the dark spaces just ahead of right this moment, but sometimes lonely is far better than exposed and better off on the ledge than the free-fall.
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